


Imperfect Affection

by Elfpen



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hohenheim tries and fails to be a good father, but he really does care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfpen/pseuds/Elfpen
Summary: Post-Manga/FMAB. As Edward and Alphonse recover from the Promised Day, Hohenheim struggles to convey his love for his sons before it's too late.





	Imperfect Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, the next chapter of Reprise is in the words, but I needed a brain break from Star Wars, so here, have a mushy snippet from my newest obsession:

Sleep became a mystery to anyone who thought about it for any amount of time. Alphonse Elric had had five years to think about it, but would not let the mystery keep him from diving in head-first.

He'd been in the hospital for just half a day, and he'd slept most of it away. It'd been bizarre - he'd forgotten what it was like to miss whole chunks of life because of sleep. The nurses told him his body was too exhausted to do much else, which made sense. They'd made him as comfortable as he could be to just lie down and rest a while: they'd helped him drink a few sips of water, cut his fingernails and trimmed and washed his hair.

They'd encouraged him to take a bath, too, but hadn't forced him to. Of all the senses, touch was the most overwhelming, and even the fact that he  _had_ skin would take some time to accept. Still, Alphonse had taken them up on their offer and fallen asleep in a soapy tub of warm water, only to wake up later fully dressed in bed with an IV in his arm.

"They had to have dried me off, dressed me," Alphonse had agonized to Ed later, red-faced and mortified. "They saw me  _naked."_

"Aw come on," Ed had elbowed him - gently, of course. "Some guys would kill for an opportunity like that. They were pretty cute, weren't they?"

" _Brother!"_ His whole body turned red.

Edward had cackled, and then started coughing up blood again, because he was an idiot.

They'd wheeled Edward away for surgery in the afternoon to remove the bolts in his right shoulder, remove bits of rebar from his left arm, and see what they could do for his broken ribs. He'd be spending the night in a post-op suite, which left Al alone in his darkened hospital room to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

...and wake up again to a pitch-black room and the ghost of another presence in the room with him. It should have panicked him, but it didn't. A hand brushed softly against his temple through the short spikes of his hair.

His eyelids felt like lead weights, and his eyes refused to focus, but he could hear the rustling of clothes and see twin glimmers of glass, a smudge of blond hair.

"Dad?" he said, quiet and groggy. Above the bed, the figure froze, and relaxed again.

"Alphonse," came Hohenheim's voice, just above a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Al told him drowsily. "Are you hurt, too?" in his brain, this question made sense. But now out in the open, it made Hohenheim laugh. Alphonse liked the sound of his father laughing. He couldn't remember having ever heard it before.

"I'm fine. Major Armstrong told me he brought you boys here - looks like they're taking good care of you."

His eyes were trying harder to focus now, and he could see that his father was smiling. Inexplicably, he longed for older times, for impossible times, when he and his brother and mother and father could've all been smiling together. But if the last five years had taught him anything, it had taught him that longing for the lost was a fool's errand.

"I'm glad you're here," Al said, and reached out his hand. His father caught it in both of his and squeezed. After a thick silence, Hohenheim choked and said,

"I am too." He ran a thumb over the edges of Alphonse's fingernails, filed short and tidy, and then reached out to brush a hand over his hair, which was still damp from his bath. "It suits you," he said. Alphonse's eyelids fluttered. He remembered falling asleep like this as a child, with his mother brushing her fingers through his hair. "I'm so proud of you, Alphonse." It made him smile, even as his eyes drifted shut. "Take care of your brother for me."

That struck a flat note. Alphonse wrenched his eyes open again, and found the strength to lift his head. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a bit," Hohenheim put out an apologetic hand. "I'm doing no good here. I'm not injured, they need all the space they can get for those who are."

"But… your philosopher's stone," Al made the connections groggily, "can't you help…?"

"No, not anymore."

"Oh."

"They've cut off all communications in and out of Central," Hohenheim told him. "Pinako and Miss Rockbell will be sick with worry for you boys. I'm going to Resembool, to tell them you're both alright."

"Oh." Alphonse wished he could come up with something better to say. "It'll be good to see them smile again," he mused wistfully, and Hohenheim smiled himself.

"Yes, it will."

"Thank you, dad." His eyes were pulling themselves shut again, that mysterious, luxurious pool pulling him offshore to float away.

"Go to sleep, son. I'll see you at home." Alphonse could never be completely sure, but as he fell asleep, he thought he felt his father kiss him on the forehead.

* * *

They rested. They mended. After six days, they let Alphonse eat real food. After ten, they let him eat twice a day. And after three weeks, they let him eat whatever he wanted - within reason, anyway.

"Chicken pot pie, pork dumplings, strawberry strudel, tea, sausages, eggs,  _and_ bacon?" Ed read off his brother's order with rising incredulity. "What kind of breakfast is… and  _milk?_ I know you're starving, Al, but this is too far!"

Alphonse only laughed. In the end, they didn't grant all of his requests, but he got a hefty plate of eggs and bacon and and an early dessert of strudel. They also brought him a pot of tea and a whole pint of milk to drink at his leisure.

"Do you want some, brother?" Alphonse raised the milk jug with a pristine innocence that only younger siblings can manage. Edward's whole body seemed to grow spikes.

"Are you  _insane?_ "

"That's okay," Alphonse drank deeply and came away with a white mustache. "It's not like I have any catching up to do - I'm already taller than you."

Edward screeched, and Alphonse finished eating with a smile on his face.

* * *

By the time they headed back home, the Elric brothers were in high spirits. Saying goodbye to Central and all of their comrades and friends had been hard, but seeing Lieutenant Havoc and Colonel Mustang healed had been a massive boost.

Teacher had even  _cried_  when she hugged them goodbye, and then threatened to kill them if they said anything about it. Sig, weeping openly and silently at her side, gave Alphonse a bundle of home-cooked bacon to eat on the train home.

It was a long train ride, and a longer walk home, but then they were  _home,_ and Winry tackled them to the dirt and it was like nothing but everything had changed. Den barked and ran circles around them until they were all the way inside. Winry started crying nearly every time she looked at Alphonse. But then, Edward began to gloat,

"I  _told you_ they'd be tears of joy!" And suddenly Winry was no longer crying, and was throwing wrenches instead.

Alphonse peeled and cored apples for the pie Winry had already started preparing, and Granny cut out cold pats of butter for the crust. Amid the din of Winry and Edward's shouting, Alphonse became aware of an absence in the house he hadn't registered until that very moment. When the arguing died down and the house went quiet, Alphonse turned to Granny and asked,

"Where's dad?" The house seemed to slow to a halt. Alphonse looked between Granny and Winry, who'd both gone suddenly still. "He said he'd meet us here."

Pinako put down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. She drew in a shaky breath. "Maybe you boys had better come with me."

* * *

"He didn't even make it to the house," Granny had kept her explanation short because of her own tears. "He came straight here. I think he knew he didn't have much time left. I didn't even get to say goodbye." She sniffed, a terrifying display of emotion for both boys. "I'm very sorry."

She left them to their thoughts, and the brothers sat in front of their parents' headstones for a long time.

"That bastard," Ed said after a long time, even though his eyes were shining with unshed tears, "of course he would leave just to kick the bucket. What a coward. What a," he wiped furiously at his eyes. "Damn rotten father."

Alphonse didn't say anything. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and stared at the name on the stone. He remembered the man in the hospital who'd said he was proud of him.  _"I'll see you at home."_ Surely he wouldn't have lied. Surely he hadn't meant for it to be like this.

"Ed, Al," it was Granny. The boys turned to her, and backlit by the setting sun, she was holding out two letters. "When I… found him, these were in his pocket. They're addressed to you."

Alphonse took his, and with more hesitation, Edward his. Granny left them alone. Edward and Alphonse glanced at each other, and then opened their letters and read silently each to himself.

* * *

_Dear Edward,_

* * *

_Dear Alphonse,_

* * *

_I am writing this on the train from Central to Resembool. I did not want to have to write this – I wanted to be able to tell you all of this myself, in person, as I should have years ago. But I realize now that I do not have enough life in me to manage even that._

_It was my blood that created the homunculus, all those years ago, and since the fall of Xerxes our lives have been intertwined as one. Now the homunculus has died, and I am living on borrowed time. I may not look it, but as I write, I am just shy of my four hundred and fifty-first birthday. It's absurd, isn't it? That I can be so ancient and only just now as I'm dying do I find a reason to keep on living._

_I realize that I am not the father you deserve. In my determination to thwart the homunculus' plans, I abandoned you and your mother and I know I can never atone for that. I can only hope that you believe me when I tell you that your mother and you boys were all I ever wanted. You gave me all I could have ever needed. I am so proud of you._

* * *

_...I have never seen a more noble sacrifice than your sacrifice for Alphonse. You are a far better man today than I have been in four and a half centuries. Trisha would be beside herself with pride if she could see the man you've become._

* * *

_...You grow stronger each day, and each day, I see in you a man I wish I could have known better. You are wise beyond your years, and carry your mother's caring spirit into a world that needs it desperately. She would be so proud to see you now._

* * *

_...I realize you want to hate me,_

* * *

_...I realize you wish you'd known me,_

* * *

_...And I understand why you feel that way, and do not blame you if you never stop,_

* * *

_...And I can assure you I wish I could have known you better all your life,_

* * *

_And I know that nothing I do will change my role in the pain you've suffered these past long years. But I hope, if nothing else, you can accept that in my profound imperfections, I loved you more than I could ever hope to tell you._

_In deepest affection,_

* * *

_...Van Hohenheim_

* * *

_...Your Father_

* * *

When Alphonse looked up, Edward was crying, too. Edward crumpled up his letter, shoved it in his pocket, and stomped off. Alphonse stayed with his parents.

"It's okay," he told his dad, trying to rub out the tears that had stained his own letter. "He's always like this."

Later, Alphonse went to Edward's room and knocked before letting himself in. He noticed their father's letter, wrinkled and torn, smoothed out on the desk and flattened under the only book they'd saved from their father's library.

"Winry's pie is almost ready to eat," Al told his brother quietly. Edward was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. In the distance, the green swell of the graveyard was just visible.

"Do you think he even knew how long he was gone?" Ed asked. Alphonse was taken aback.

"What?"

"If Hohenheim was as old as he said, do you think he even knew how many years had passed before he came back, to find mom dead, us without bodies?"

Alphonse hadn't ever thought of it. He sat down next to Edward on the bed and stared out the window.

"I don't know. Maybe." It was not quite dark out, and the countryside was awash in a dusky blue. Past the cemetery, a string of lights and smoke traced the path of the 7:00 train. Alphonse watched the smoke become clouds and fade into the atmosphere. "I think he loved mom. A lot." It was somehow uncomfortable to say so, but it soothed something deep in Alphonse's gut. "I think he loved us, too. I really think he did. He just…" he shrugged. "Didn't really know how. In his shoes, I'm not sure I would either."

"Hmm," was all Edward said. The two boys watched the sunlight disappear to reveal a world full of stars. Eventually, Edward glanced past Alphonse to see the clock, and his eyes stuck on his brother's hair.

"Your hair's growing out already," he gave it a rough tousle, and Alphonse complained. "You'll have to get it trimmed again soon."

"Better than leave it long," Alphonse combed his hair back into place, miffed. "I don't know how you stand it, brother."

"What can I say?" Edward shrugged, holier-than-thou, "it takes a certain stature to pull this off."

Alphonse rolled his eyes and was about to say something cruel about Ed's height, when Winry shouted across the house to announce,

" _Apple pie is ready!"_

Alphonse picked up his cane and zipped to the door in an instant. The stairs thumped and groaned as he practically fell into the kitchen, offering to whip cream and put out plates, and anything else that would help him get the pie to his mouth sooner rather than later.

Edward lagged behind and laughed. The night had transformed his window into a mirror, and he caught sight of his reflection as he stood to his feet. He resented the red rims on his eyes, the crusty tear tracks on his cheeks. He scrubbed them away. Then, he picked at the frayed mess of his hair, which was coming undone in all directions. He undid the hair tie and combed at it with his hands.

" _We have the same look,"_ Hohenheim had said, when they met at his mother's grave. Edward had braided his hair so fast, it'd been matted for days. He looked again at his reflection, and began to divide his hair into thirds.

" _Edward! Do you want pie or not? Better come and get some before Al eats it all!"_

" _Hey!"_

Edward hesitated before gathering his hair into a single, familiar ponytail.

"I'm coming!"

He closed the curtains on his reflection and joined his family downstairs.


End file.
